


I Know a Few People

by bleedingheartshow



Category: Leverage, White Collar
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-17
Updated: 2013-02-17
Packaged: 2017-11-29 15:12:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/688377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bleedingheartshow/pseuds/bleedingheartshow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eliot Spencer's been contacted about a job and he's not entirely sure how he feels about it.</p><p>Written for Livejournal's 2010 xover_exchange.</p><p>Originally posted 11/2010, reposted from my old account.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Know a Few People

Eliot Spencer raised his hand and pulled back the silky curtain, staring down at the streets of New York City. He wasn’t a fan of New York City; hell, he wasn’t a fan of swanky hotels, but the fed had insisted on putting him up here and he wasn’t exactly going to argue with the free top-shelf booze in his mini bar. Or the large hot tub in the bathroom. Or the California king size bed with the fluffy comforter and cotton sheets that helped a bruised and beaten body feel a little less bruised and beaten. Just a little.

He sighed and let the curtain fall back into place. His contact told him that the impossible had finally happened: Neal Caffrey had gone and gotten himself locked up for bond forgery. Eliot had worked with Caffrey a number of times and while their styles didn’t exactly mesh – Neal was all charm and stealth, while Eliot didn’t shy away from using force where charm and stealth failed - they’d always respected one another and their abilities to get a job done. That was the only reason he was here; he knew Caffrey would do the same for him. Caffrey must have been the one who gave his name to the fed.

Eliot didn’t know much about this job, but he did know the guy he was supposed to meet in thirty minutes was the same one who’d caught Caffrey and gotten him locked away. Eliot reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card - Peter Burke, Special Agent, White Collar Crimes Unit, FBI. He immediately disliked the man - not that he had much love for the federal government to begin with. Eliot had to admit he was impressed, though. If this Burke guy had tracked Caffrey for three years and actually got him to plead guilty to something, he must be pretty damn good at his job.

He turned and looked in the mirror. The long cut above his right eyebrow was nearly healed, but he still had a hell of a bruise on his jaw from that rough job in Bucharest he’d finished a few days back. Eli ot smirked. The other guy looked a hell of a lot worse. He finished buttoning up his dark blue shirt and, with a quick glance around his hotel suite, he walked out into the hallway.

~~~

The sun was shining brightly in Central Park as Eliot neared the meeting place. This area of the park was full of people, out taking advantage of the late autumn warm spell. He didn’t know what Burke looked like but wasn’t particularly worried about spotting him; those FBI guys all looked the same. He surveyed the crowd - mostly young hot mothers with strollers and preppy, energetic people with their equally energetic and annoying dogs. He spotted Burke standing near a bench; trench coat, boring suit, and boring tie horribly out of place with the rest of the scene. Eliot smiled. This might be fun after all,, he thought.

Burke hadn’t seen him yet, so Eliot moved quietly until he was standing right behind him.

“Peter Burke?”

Burke wheeled a round, quickly recovering his composure as he recognized Eliot - he’d no doubt read up on him - and stuck out his hand.

“Special Agent Peter Burke. You must be Eliot Spencer,” he said.

Eliot shook his hand. “Special Agent. Right. Forgot you feds love your titles.” He winked at Burke.

Burke looked back at him, indifferent. “Shall we sit?” he said, gesturing to the park bench.

Eliot nodded and sat down on the edge of the bench, leaning back and crossing his arms.

“That’s quite a bruise you’ve got there,” Burke said. “Is the other guy even alive?”

Eliot shrugged. “Think he was still breathing when I left,” he said. He paused as he stifled a laugh at the look of disdain on Burke’s face. “We’re not here to talk about me, Special Agent Burke. Only reason I’m here is ‘cause my contact said this had something to do with Neal Caffrey. Seeing as how you’re the reason Caffrey’s in prison, I’m curious why I should help you out. Enlighten me.”

“I’m not exactly sure that’s the kind of tone a known criminal and murderer wants to take with a federal officer,” Burke said.

“So you fly me out here to ask for my help and then threaten me? How’s that working out for you, huh?” Eliot flashed him an innocent smile.

Burke stared at him. “I could make your life difficult, Mr. Spencer.”

Eliot laughed and uncrossed his arms, leaning forward. “Make my life difficult, Peter? Go ahead and try. You’re the ones who turned me into a ‘criminal and a murder’ into the first place.” He stood up. “We’re done here.” He started to walk away.

“This isn’t over,” Burke called after him.

~~~

Eliot was finishing up one of those fancy imported beers that housekeeping had restocked in his mini-bar when, predictably, his phone rang.

“Call to apologize?” he said, not even bother ing to look at the caller ID. He heard a sigh.

“I think we got off on the wrong foot. Would you be willing to meet me in the same spot in a half an hour?” Burke said.

Eliot paused, reminding himself this had to benefit Caffrey in some way. He nodded to himself.

“Yeah, okay. My bag’s packed, though. I don’t take too kindly to threats.”

“Just hear me out, okay? I have reason to believe you’d be interested in this case,” Burke said.

“See you in thirty minutes,” Eliot said and hung up the phone. He tossed his phone on the desk and returned to the bed, stuffing various things into his duffel bag. Caffrey’s gonna owe me one when he gets out of prison, he thought.

~~~

Eliot approached the bench and dropped his bag on the ground. There were far fewer people in the park now, as it was starting to get dark and the cold had begun to creep in. He zipped up his jacket.

“So, let me guess,” he sai d to Burke, who was already sitting on the park bench. “You went to your boss, mentioned my name, and asked for some dirt on me. He locked the door, closed the blinds, and told you not to say my name ever again. That sound about right?”

The look of surprise on Burke’s face was priceless. “That’s about right. I don’t know what you’ve done, Mr. Spencer, and I don’t want to know. What I do know is that I need your help taking down a bad, bad man,” he said.

“How bad we talkin’?” Eliot said.

Burke pulled out a large file and plopped it on the bench between them, opening it to the first page and pointing to a picture of a handsome middle-aged man. “Boris Antonovich. Big time art smuggler. We’ve been trying to get him for years, but nothing will stick. Apparently he’s changing his game a bit now, too. Turns out he’s not just smuggling art, but kids.”

Eliot’s eyes narrowed. “Kids? The guy’s smuggling kids?"

Burke nodded. “Turns out art wasn’t as lucrative a business as he hoped, so he’s started trafficking young girls from Eastern Europe to the United States to work as prostitutes. Real stand up guy.”

Eliot balled his fists. “How does Caffrey play into all this?”

“You’re not the only one with a history with Caffrey. I learned a few things about him in the three years I was chasing him. For example, that he has stashes of various art pieces hidden across the country. Caffrey’s alluded to having evidence tying Antonovich to at least one count of art smuggling. We’re working with ICE on the trafficking charges, but this could be what really breaks the case for us.” Burke leaned back and looked at Eliot. “This is where you come in.”

“You think I know where Caffrey keeps his hidden treasure? He and I go back, but we don’t go that far back,” Eliot said. He paused, a thought occurring to him. “Clearly you're doing this off the books or else you wouldn’t be involving me. That means you don’t want to incriminate Caffrey any more than you already have.” He stared at Burke intently. “You like the guy.”

“I respect him,” Burke said, with a hint of caution in his voice.

“That’s why he landed in prison for four years. Quite a way to show your respect,” Eliot said.

“I was just doing my job. I figure you of all people would understand that, Mr. Spencer.”

Eliot grunted. “Fair enough. If Caffrey’s willing to help you out even though you’re the one who put him in prison, you must be doing something right. He didn’t happen to mention what the evidence is or where he’s keeping it, did he?”

Burke pulled a piece of paper from his trench coat pocket and smiled for the first time. It made him look about 10 years younger, Eliot observed. Not a bad looking smile, either.

“It’s located here.” Burke pointed to a vault on what appeared to be the blueprint of a bank. “It’s an 18th Century painting; no specifics as to which one, but he said it was the only painting in there so it shouldn’t be too hard to spot. Think you can handle a bank?”

Eliot grinned. “I know a few people.”

“Does that mean you’re in?” Burke said.

“Chance to take down a guy smuggling kids and help out an old friend in the process?” Eliot paused, smiling at the FBI agent.

“Yeah, I’m in.”


End file.
